


Nemesis, The Inescapable

by shyv2rxrxr (hexburn)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Birthday fic for Nemesis, Gen, League au, League-inspired, No Slash, Players as Champions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 11:11:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19991194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexburn/pseuds/shyv2rxrxr
Summary: His justice shall be done.





	Nemesis, The Inescapable

**Author's Note:**

> a quick fun thing!

The wings on his back are not enough.

He does not have enough power yet, not enough even as he saps the lifeforce of feeble knights in front of him to strengthen his own powers; he calls out his magic to pierce their red-cloaked forms but still he does not gain enough strength. This fight will be hard. He flexes his back and extends the extra pair of wings, praying that they will bolster his resolve enough to win this battle.

The helmet on his head shines in shades of cream and gold, an easy target for anyone seeking to kill him. His eyes shine gold as well, so that no one who sees him and challenges him can say they didn’t know he was powerful beyond imagine. Besides, the people at his side have his back as well, and he will not fall just yet.

Lose a fight, perhaps. But Nemesis will win this battle. Nemesis will win this war.

To his right, a tall Vastaya with yellow eyes and yellow hair slings his sharp feathers at enemies who even approach him from afar. The purple tattoos on his arms writhe with the energy he steals from the dead minions while his hyperintelligent eyes make note of every movement in the knights before him, stabbing into their hearts with lethal force despite the distance. He’s a veteran of war, this one. He still remembers the days when they won every battle they were thrown into. 

This man is on a mission as well, a mission to protect the world he knows and to drown the earth in the blood of those who would tear him down. He’s been betrayed, but if anything, that did naught but hone the murderous glint in his eyes. Were Nemesis on the other side of the battle, he thinks he might be afraid.

Nemesis fires a bolt of light magic towards a group of knights who have the audacity to get too close, always keeping an eye out for the Vastayan legend, though it proves to be unnecessary as a blade made of bone slits the throats of the knights’ platoon leader and the knights look around in nervous furor.

“Rekkles, look out,” the eerily-clad man in the bushes exclaims even though the threat is gone.

“I know,” Rekkles responds, and Nemesis keeps an eye on them while he manipulates more magic to fell his enemies.

The man is cloaked in fearsome dress, full of bones and shark teeth that reflect the icy glow of his heartless eyes. Nemesis remembers this Hylissang’s story. He had left his family to join the fight, to join Rekkles and the one to Nemesis’s left in this never-ending war for survival, never expecting that the war might bring new enemies as his family were eradicated from his knowledge.

Nemesis has the benefit of divine intelligence. He knows the human tribe of the Unicorns still lives on in a distant land. He wonders if telling Hylissang would help, or hurt the fierce, blood-crazed revenge-seeker.

For now, that deliberation falls to the side. He has not shared his knowledge. He does not plan to.

Not even with the powerful, yet fallen king among them. Broxah, he is called, with his apprentice and chosen prince, the more simply-named Dan, at his side. The fallen king is eager to reclaim his throne, stolen away in the last war before this one had begun, these wars that frequent the tumultuous land that Nemesis has been called to, and the metallic sound of a many-pronged lance on a whetstone can be heard nearly every night in their camp, after the clanging of lance against spear. Nemesis knows that Broxah is an innately good man, always ready to help any one of them whose share of knights and minions seems to have grown. Nemesis wonders if that is what makes a good human king.

It is not his place to judge.

His attention is drawn back to the battlefield, which he cannot ignore as the feeble magic of a minion leaves a scratch in his armour. Immediately, a spear takes its life.

“Thank you, Dan.”

Dan merely hums in response. He is here mainly to train with and aid Broxah in the regaining of their kingdom, and though he is more than pleasant enough as company, something about the battlefield unsettles him. Nemesis knows he doesn’t get shoved out here often.

Facing enemies is something they must all become used to.

In the distance, someone cries out about enemies, waxing poetic in a way that makes Nemesis look towards Targon for strength - that is, the strength to not fire a bolt of light at the darkin being who is so terribly loud all the time. Darkins are unjust. Still, Nemesis must cooperate with Bwipo, one who has murdered so many, in order to carry out his part in these wars.

He has no plans of interacting with the massive-sword-wielding, terrible-winged Darkin once he has served these teammates of his as he must.

And serve he does. He is Nemesis, after all, Rhamnousia, the Inescapable, the one from whom none may run for long, he who kills these vermin as he must for all their injustices to the ones around him. Then again, he would be lying if he said he was only here for their sake. As the battles have gone on, he finds himself thirsting for blood more and more. Once he was content to sit back and watch them fight.

Now, he sits front and centre, leading the charge. He has grown. He is more powerful. He has killed so many, so very many of these feeble minion mages and knights that he can feel enough power coursing through him to manifest his final two wings, a total of six statements attached to his back proclaiming him as inhuman and inhumanly just.

Between slashing knights from afar with mere slices of his blades through the air, he swings one half of his sword up and knocks his helmet off, hair and eyes aflame with holy fire as he purges the land of these hellspawn that never seem to stop coming. They have been pushing forward for some time now. From his height as he hovers above the field, never touching it, never sullying his armour with human dirt, he can see the blood-red crystal source of the scum. 

Broxah does, too, and with a kingly rally urges them all forward despite the thickening horde. Knights and minions creep closer until it is all Hylissang can do to bring down ghostly blades that only clear the path for a few scant seconds, and even Rekkles, whose eyes show his fatigue though nothing else of him does, unleashes a barrage of purple feathers in a desperate attempt to knock out room for them to push forward. Mindlessly, Bwipo shoves his way through the crowd, crushing skulls and bones under his blunt weapon, wings wide open in his best imitation of something holy. Nemesis can only think about how they’ve all fallen. Broxah charges into the fray with a healthful blessing from Nemesis to rupture the earth and snare mindless bodies in a mountainous ring, but there are still more coming. Dan hurtles after Broxah, whirling his spear in a perfect counter to every sword around him, but tiny sparks of magic add up quickly and Nemesis can see the untempered, untried prince is taking damage. As soon as he is capable, Nemesis blesses him with the smallest of smiles. The grin is barely returned before Dan is twirling his spear unerringly once more, battling his way to Rekkles’s side. Vastaya are not invulnerable, and it would appear Rekkles has learned this, as the gash in his side bleeds painfully; were Nemesis not out of blessings for at least the next few moments, he would give several to the feathered fighter. They must make it to the crystal, and fast.

One final push. Nemesis raises his sword to the sun with a scream as he channels its overwhelming power, and his teammates need only look to their gold-tinted skin and the brassy blades above them to know that they are invulnerable for precious few seconds under Nemesis’s divine protection. “The worthy survive!” he shouts as Broxah and Rekkles shatter the crystal. His teammates cheer as the minions and knights dissolve around them and each of his friends runs to one another, concerning themselves with small wounds that must be patched and deciding upon which wounds are the worst and demand immediate healing from Nemesis. From here, the day shall wind to an end like so many battles before, most won, some lost.

They are all one step closer, now.

To defense.

To revenge.

To the throne.

To the end.

By Nemesis’s power and thanks to his divine strength, his team shall be aided to what they seek.

Thanks to him, this battle is won. 

The war shall continue another day.


End file.
